Foresight
by kokoda2007
Summary: Surviving the accident was only the first step for Sam. After Sam's discharged from the hospital, Dean takes them to Bobby's to give Sam time to recover. Hurt!Sam.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

**Summary:** Surviving the accident was only the first step for Sam.

**Author's Note: **My muse is running rampant at the moment, and I'm currently in the middle of a few stories at once. This story however just won't let me go - so here's the first chapter of the promised sequel to my recent fic, Oversight. You don't need to read that to understand this story – they can both stand alone.

I don't have a definitive timeline for this story, other than to say that it would be set sometime in Season 2. I must warn that one or two swear words slipped in.

Is this story really just an excuse to hurt Sam some more? Simply put, yes!

**ooOoo**

**Foresight**

**Chapter 1**

Taking it easy wasn't a burden when your body craved rest and sleep. For the past couple of weeks that was all Sam had done – the first week in the hospital and the second week at Bobby's. This morning he'd woken up feeling restless, unwilling to spend the day divided between the couch and the cushioned chair Dean had set up for him on the porch.

He was surprised Bobby was so willing to put up with them, particularly as Dean didn't seem to be making any signs of moving them on. Free room and board usually pulled Dean in, but could only contain his brother for so long before the restlessness spiraled out of control. He couldn't ever really imagine his brother putting down roots or setting up home.

He pushed himself up off the couch, taking a moment to gain his balance as the room bowed and tilted before him. He'd had enough of the dizziness that assaulted him every time he stood too quickly or moved too fast. He was sick of feely queasy and tired, of being able to do nothing more than watch TV or read. He needed to take back some control. He needed to work a little harder at getting back his strength and not just spend his days lying around waiting for it to happen.

The house was quiet now, too quiet, so he knew Dean and Bobby must be out back, probably tinkering with the car. The distinctive sound of metal being hammered out had stopped a few days ago, so maybe now they'd moved on to the finer details involved in repairing the car. He hadn't been able to go out and see the progress being made – he wasn't allowed to leave the house. But Dean and Bobby weren't here right now, so there was no one to stop him.

**ooOoo**

Keeping a firm grip on the railing, he took the short row of steps leading off the porch one at a time until his boots hit dry dirt. He felt a buzz of exhilaration at completing the simple feat and a small thrill at simply breaking the rules. God, he felt like he was a teenager again, sneaking out of the house behind his Dad's and Dean's back, trying, usually unsuccessfully, not to get caught. Dean just didn't seem to understand that if he didn't get and do something soon, he'd go stir crazy. He just needed something to keep him busy, something to keep him occupied. Hell, just anything to break the boredom.

He walked quietly around the house, towards the workshop out back, following the sounds of his brother's and Bobby's voices. He could see the Impala, paintwork glistening under the sun, his brother leaning against her with a beer in one hand and a wrench in the other. Dean looked happy, face animated in conversation as he discussed the finer points of cars with Bobby. It was a rare sight.

He knew he was eavesdropping, but he was reluctant to spoil the mood. He felt a little like an outsider in this world of cars and mechanics and wasn't sure if his presence would be welcomed by the two older men. He missed having this sort of companionship with Dean, based on common interests and not just shared blood and dependency.

As his eyes fell on the Impala's broken head light he felt a twinge of guilt for the damage he'd caused; the damage he'd been unable to prevent. He'd tried to apologize to Dean, but every time he raised the issue Dean had instigated avoidance techniques. That had always been Dean's way – to avoid conversations that involved emotions, and if there was one thing Dean was emotional about, it was his car.

He _needed_ to talk about it though. To explain to Dean that he'd tried - tried to get the Impala out of the path of the out of control truck. To explain that he was sorry – for the accident, for getting sick, for causing them to be waylaid in the one place for too long. He _needed_ to talk to Dean. He _needed_ to make him understand.

He needed some resolution.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the shadows and walked towards the other two men.

"Sam?" Dean pushed away from the car as he saw his brother's approach. His heart sped up as he scrutinized Sam's face, searching for any sign of pain. "Everything okay?"

Sam nodded, not wanting to get into another discussion about his health. "How's the car?"

Dean ignored the question. "Thought I told you not to leave the house!"

"I'm not _four_ Dean. And there's nothing to do." Sam whined.

"Holy hell boy, you telling me you read all those books already?" Bobby butted in.

"Christ Bobby, it'd take me two lifetimes to read all that stuff you've been hording." Sam thought of the hundreds of books piled haphazardly in the house.

"Well then, you need me to help you carry some of them out onto the porch for you? Sure is a nice day for reading outside." Bobby asked, wiping his hands on an oily rag as he prepared to offer assistance.

Sam snapped with irritation. "Goddamn it, I can carry a couple of books." Catching the concerned looks on the other men's faces he tried to calm his voice. "I'm sick of reading – thought maybe I could, you know, help with the car or something?"

"You're supposed to be resting." Dean soothed; ready to escort his brother back inside.

"I have been resting. That's all I have been doing. I'm going crazy in there." Sam retorted, determined to stand his ground.

Dean grinned. "No, you've always been crazy Sam, just realizing it for yourself now is all."

"I'm serious Dean." Sam felt like stamping his feet in frustration.

"So am I. You heard what the doc said Sammy." Dean reminded, hoping Sam would see things his way.

"I've barely lifted anything heavier than my toothbrush for the last two weeks Dean. I need to do something - something useful." Sam whined, hating the desperate need in his voice.

"Why didn't you say so Sam?" Bobby stepped away from the tool trolley. "You come over here and hand the tools to your brother. Me? I'm gonna go get myself another beer." Bobby threw Sam a conspiring wink. He knew for sure he'd face Dean's wrath later on, but right now, he'd escape while he could.

As Bobby made a hasty exit, Sam made his way over to the tool trolley and waited for the inevitable fall-out from Dean.

"Ah, what tool do you need?" Sam asked when Dean just stared at him and remained stoically silent.

"You really want to do this Sam?" Dean looked at Sam, taking in his pale face and the slight tremble in his hands.

"Yeah, just tell me what you need." Sam scanned the array of tools laid out in front of him.

Dean looked at his brother in resignation. "Okay then. Hand me that spanner, the one near your elbow."

He spent the next fifteen minutes handing the occasionally requested tool to Dean, watching as his brother did whatever it was he did under the hood of the car.

Dean pulled his head out from under the hood and handed a tool back to his brother. With a sigh, he braced his hands behind him and leant back against the car. "Just spit it out Sam, whatever the hell it is that's bothering you."

It took a moment for Dean's words to sink in. After days of rehearsing what he wanted to say to his brother, he was momentarily speechless. "I ah …I..."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam took a calming breath. "I wrecked the car Dean."

Dean absently stroked the car with his fingertips. "Yeah, I think we kinda established that, couple of weeks back Sammy."

Sam met Dean's eyes. "I'm sorry Dean, 'bout the car and everything."

"The truck was out of control Sam, there was nothing you could've done." Dean replied, ready to let the matter drop, for good.

"No, I should've done something. When I heard the truck coming, I shouldn't have waited so long to get to the car. Hell, if I hadn't just stood watching, maybe I could've moved the car in time." Sam needed Dean to know the full details of how he'd fucked up.

Dean looked at Sam with utter shock. "Wait a minute! What are you saying? Please don't tell me you ran in front of an out of control truck? For what? To try and save a car? Are you friggin' insane?"

"I had to try Dean." Sam muttered.

"It's a goddamn car Sam. Hell, it nearly cost you your spleen. Your life. What the hell were you thinking?" Dean shouted, wanting to shake some sense into his brother.

Sam cringed. "I was thinking…"

"I don't think you were Sam. Christ, you got hit by a friggin' truck!" Dean raised his voice another notch as he yelled at Sam.

"Actually, I got hit by the car – after it got hit by the truck." Sam's mind flashed back to the memory of the truck careening towards the Impala, brakes locked as the driver fought for control. He paled as he remembered desperately struggling to unlock the door so he could move the car, the sound of the impact and the pain of being hit.

"Oh, you think that makes it alright?" Dean felt his control slipping and had to clench his fists by his side as he comprehended the sequence of events that had led to Sam being injured.

Sam felt his heckles rise. "Don't you get it? I had to try Dean. I know how much the car means to you – especially after Dad. I mean, except for Dad's journal, it's all you have left." He reached out to hold on to the tool trolley as his vision wavered.

Blood roared in his ears and black spots danced before Sam's eyes. He felt his legs start to buckle and he stumbled, trying to remain upright. Tools crashed to the ground as he staggered against the tool trolley, confused and disorientated.

Dean watched what little color his brother had leach from his face. "Sam!" He shouted, reaching out to grasp one of Sam's arms as he tilted into the tool trolley.

"Come on Sammy, don't do this to me." Dean muttered as he wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him into his chest. Sam's weight felt heavy against him.

"Dean?" Sam murmured, his head bobbing on Dean's shoulder. He felt the strength holding him steady, firm and unyielding.

Sam took a shuddering breath and collapsed into the welcoming blackness.

"Bobby" Dean yelled, bracing himself as he took Sam's full weight.

_To be continued._

**ooOoo**

**Author's Note:** If you haven't read my previous story Oversight, and as such, this chapter didn't make sense, could you please let me know.

**Reviews are love. **

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	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: **As always, thanks for reading and to everyone who left a review.

**Chapter 2**

Dean's muscles strained as he held onto his brother and not for the first time, he cursed the extra height that made Sam so difficult to carry. He was trapped, effectively dancing with an unconscious sasquatch as he tried to shift position to give himself a little extra leverage and keep Sam from slipping.

"Bobby!" He yelled again, a hint of desperation creeping in as the seconds ticked by without any sign of the older hunter. He hoped to hell the other man was within hearing distance.

"Sammy, you with me?" Dean whispered as he heard a soft groan from his brother. "Come on dude, I really need you to wake up here – you know you're not as light as you used to be."

"Dean?" Bobby rushed into sight, a revolver held steady in one hand.

"Little help here Bobby." Dean beseeched the other man, taking a small staggering step backwards as he tried to keep balanced. The last thing Sam needed was another fall and Dean would do everything within his power to stop that from happening.

"Christ Dean, what did you do?" Bobby questioned as he tucked the revolver into his waistband and moved beside Dean to take his share of Sam's weight.

"What did I do? You're the one who thought it'd be a good idea to let him help with the car." Dean glared at Bobby as they maneuvered Sam between them.

"I thought you'd be keeping a close eye on him, making sure he didn't overdo things." Bobby tried to justify his actions even though he felt in some way responsible for Sam's collapse. He'd thought the boy was looking better and that a little fresh air and activity couldn't hurt. Knowing that maybe his intentions had caused more harm than good was like a swift kick in the guts. "How about we argue 'bout this later. Right now, I say we work on getting the kid back up to the house."

"Yeah. Watch his ribs." Dean cautioned as Bobby hooked an arm under Sam's shoulder.

"What the hell have you been feeding this boy? He weighs a friggin' ton." Bobby muttered as he took a moment to grip onto the back of Sam's belt to keep him from falling.

"Ready?" Dean asked.

"Let's do it." Bobby agreed, silently questioning whether they'd actually be able to complete the straight forward task.

With Sam balanced between them, arms hooked under his shoulders and feet dragging on the ground, they headed back towards the house, making slow progress.

**ooOoo**

Sam's head bobbed in time with the sluggish pace as Dean and Bobby dragged him towards the house. It took him a moment to realize where he was and what was happening. That he'd passed out mid-sentence when talking with Dean was bad enough, but having to be carried back to the house by Dean and Bobby was even worse. This one was going to be added to their story books for sure and he'd never be allowed to forget it.

His head felt heavy when he tried to lift it, and he groaned under the unexpected effort.

"You back with us Sam?" Dean whispered close to his ear.

"Never left." He responded, getting his legs to cooperate in supporting some of his own weight.

"Nearly there Sam, just hold on, we've got you." Dean reassured, keeping Sam clasped closely to his side.

Sam tried to pull against the arms holding him. "No, 'mmm 'kay Dean, I can walk."

Dean paused mid stride and gave Sam an incredulous look at the blatant lie. "Obviously Sam, that'd be why me 'n Bobby are carrying your heavy ass."

Sam took the opportunity to try and twist out of the firm hold.

"Quit ya wriggling Sam." Bobby barked; his grip tightening as he pulled Sam in closer.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he was held in the vice like grip. Pain ricocheted through his chest, sharp and unrelenting, and he struggled just to draw air into his oxygen starved lungs.

"No," Sam gasped, fingers clawing at the arm wrapped across his chest. His vision narrowed, legs folding, as once again he sank into the dark.

"Christ." Bobby struggled to retain his hold as Sam suddenly went limp again and surrended his full weight to the two men carrying him. "Dean?"

"Yeah, I got him." Dean reassured, his arm secure around his brother.

**ooOoo**

Together they managed to get Sam up the front steps and into the house, laying him down on the tatty couch that had become Sam's second home over the last week.

"Jesus!" Bobby muttered, still catching his breath, as Dean unbuttoned Sam's shirt and bared his chest. The bruises had faded from deep purple to mottled yellow, but they still stained one side of Sam's torso with dramatic color.

Dean feathered his fingers over the bruised and scarred flesh, trying to ascertain if there was any further injury. "I just don't know Bobby. I though he was getting better, but…" Dean ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't know."

"Maybe we should take him into town, get the doc to look him over." Bobby stood at the end of the couch, his eyes locked on Sam's bruises in morbid curiosity.

"Yeah maybe." Dean answered Bobby, not taking his eyes off Sam. "Come on Sammy, you need to wake up, let me know what's going on with you."

**ooOoo**

Sam wanted to move away from the incessant voice calling his name, but his traitorous body refused to cooperate. Instead he opened his eyes and looked into the concerned face of Dean hovering just inches from his own.

"Sam." Dean said the name on a sign of relief. "Thank God."

"Hey. Ah, what happened?" Sam asked, looking around and trying to remember coming back inside.

"You decided to take a little swan dive is what happened." Dean moved away a little, but still remained perched on the edge of the couch as he let his eyes drift once again over Sam's bruised chest. "How're you feeling kiddo?"

"I'm fine Dean." Sam replied without giving the question any thought.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to tell the truth every once in a while." Dean swore if he heard Sam say he was 'fine' one more time he'd maim the kid just to prove him wrong.

Sam met the concerned looks of the other men. "I'm fine, really."

Dean gritted his teeth and raised an eyebrow, prompting Sam to continue.

"I just jarred my ribs, twisted the wrong way or something." Sam used his fingers to trace along the lines of his bruised lower ribs and hoped he hadn't damaged them further. He wanted to hold the area, feeling like his ribs needed support to keep his chest held together. Every inhalation of breath caused his chest to expand and it felt like his bruised ribs would just crack under the simple everyday action. The pain was intense and unrelenting and if not breathing was an option; he'd be giving it serious consideration.

"That all?" Dean prompted, not willing to settle for any half truths this time.

"Couple of pain pills wouldn't hurt." Sam stated although he wasn't quite willing to voice just how much his ribs and chest actually bothered him. He was sick of the boredom and the relentless cycle of throbbing pain that made even the simplest of tasks an exhausting chore.

"You been doing those coughing exercises doc talked about?" Dean questioned, trying to fathom if there was more to Sam's recent collapse than he was letting on.

"Yes Dean." Sam fidgeted, hoping the half truth would suffice.

Bobby stood a few feet away and watched the exchange between the brothers. Dean was acting all mother hen and Sam was saying what needed to be said to placate his older brother. They were idjits, the both of them. With an exasperated shake of his head he made his way out to the kitchen, more than happy to let the two of them work it out between themselves.

Dean felt his frustration grow as he observed Sam closely. "You can't keep doing this, you know? Carrying on like nothing's wrong."

Sam met his brother's worried gaze. "It's just a bit of bruising, a couple of fractured ribs. Not like we haven't had worse."

Dean frowned at the flippant response. "It's not just that Sam, its you. Running around like you've got something to prove. Hiding things – since when the hell have we kept secrets from one another? Tell me, 'cause I sure as hell don't get it Sam, why you've got to pretend like you're not hurting, cause I gotta say, I sure as hell know what a bitch a cracked rib feels like, and on top of the surgery and everything else, that's got to be some serious pain."

Sam subconsciously rubbed his bruises before pulling his shirt closed across his chest. "I just -. I know you've got a lot to deal with, you know, with Dad, with the car and everything, and I just don't want you to feel that you've got to look after me too. It's just that you've spent your whole life doing that Dean, and now, don't you want some time to, I don't know, focus on something else?"

"And what is it exactly that you think I should be focusing on?" Dean questioned.

Sam thought for a moment. "I don't know. But that's just it Dean, don't you want something more?"

Dean shook his head. "We can't change who we are Sam, how we were raised, what we do. It's who we are."

"But hunting, it doesn't have to define us Dean." Sam whispered the words, scarcely loud enough to be heard.

Dean looked down at his recuperating brother and images flashed through his mind. Sam as a baby, held tightly in his arms as he ran from the burning house. Sam's first day of school, Sam learning how to swim, Sam watching intently as he taught him how to drive. Looking out for Sam, its what he did, what he'd always done. It was an irrevocable part of who he was.

"Don't go confusing me with the people you watch on those daytime soaps you're so fond of." Dean gave an exaggerated shudder. "I got everything I need right here." Dean watched as his words sunk in. "Plus, the car's nearly fixed as good as new; and, as soon as you're back on your feet, I'll get to have your whiney ass tagging along, to, I don't know, make sure I don't have too much of a good time or anything."

"Someone's got to keep you out of trouble." Sam smiled.

"Yeah, and you do it so well." Dean pushed up off the couch. "I'll go get you those pain pills." He strode towards the door, stopping for a second to glance back at Sam. "Oh, and if I come back and see you've moved -."

"I'm not going anywhere Dean." Sam closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that Dean wouldn't be far.

**-end-**

**Author's note:** Well, this was my first ever sequel. I have to admit, writing it (the second chapter) was a struggle as I just could not find inspiration. In hindsight, I think I should have left the first story alone - but who would have thought that my hurt!Sam muse would abandon me at a time like this.


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